Vienna Secrets

47

Anna Katzer and Olga Mandl stepped down from the carriage on Burggasse and walked arm in arm up the cobbled incline of an adjoining street. The houses they passed were dilapidated, and the air smelled vaguely of refuse. From somewhere beyond the end of the street a bugle sounded, establishing the proximity of the barracks. They arrived at their destination, a decrepit hovel, and paused to examine the filthy exterior. Pieces of stucco had fallen off the facade, revealing the underlying brickwork, and the windows were streaked with bird droppings.

A door was thrown open on the opposite side of the road, and a plump red-faced woman stepped out. She frowned at the two well-dressed young women and proceeded to shake some bed linen.

Anna lifted the cast-iron knocker and rapped loudly. Nothing stirred in the house, so she tried again.

“Excuse me,” Anna called over to the red-faced woman. “Do you know if Herr Sachs is in?”

The red-faced woman shrugged and continued with her work. Anna turned and struck the door with her fist.

“Herr Sachs, are you in? Herr Sachs?” She tilted her head and addressed her companion. “Did you hear something?”

“Yes,” said Olga, “I think I did.”

“Herr Sachs? Open the door!”

They waited, and their patience was rewarded by the hollow thump of footsteps descending wooden stairs. A bolt was drawn aside, and the door creaked open. The man standing in front of them had evidently just gotten out of bed. His hair was mussed, and he seemed slightly disorientated. He was wearing a stained dressing gown and had not bothered to put on his slippers. Anna glanced down and was repulsed by his corneous clawlike yellow toenails. On the exposed carpet of matted hair that covered his chest sat a circular pendant that contained a Star of David. He rubbed one of his half-closed eyes with a grazed knuckle and, when he had finished, blinked blearily at the two women.

“Herr Sachs?” Anna inquired.

“Who are you?” he replied, the words forming from the gravelly sounds that he made as he cleared his throat.

“My name is Anna Katzer, and this is my associate and friend Olga Mandl. Are you Herr Sachs? Jeheil Sachs?”

“What if I am?” the man said. The fogginess of sleep suddenly dissipated from his expression. He studied Anna and Olga more closely, his gaze wandering disrespectfully from head to toe, his mouth twisting into a lecherous grin. “What if I am?” he repeated, and added in a softer tone, “Ladies…”

Anna and Olga bristled simultaneously.

“It is our understanding,” said Olga, “that you are acquainted with a Galician woman named Kadia Pinski.” Sachs stiffened. “Well?” Olga persisted. “Is it true?”

Sachs nodded. “Yes, I know her. Why? And where is she?”

“In the hospital,” said Anna.

Sachs’s tongue moistened his cracked lower lip.

“What is your relationship with Fraulein Pinski?”

“That’s none of your business,” Sachs snorted. Then he added in a more conciliatory tone, “All right. If you must know, I help her out a little. Financially. I’ve introduced her to a few soldiers who’ve given her a good time. Hospital, eh? What happened to her?”

“You know very well what happened to her!” said Anna, her voice brittle with anger. “What you did was despicable!”

When Sachs tried to close the door, Anna threw her weight against it, keeping it open.

“We know what you did!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Have you no conscience, no self-respect?” said Anna. “To profit from the misery and hardship of your own people.”

“You can’t prove anything,” said Sachs. “I helped the girl out, that’s all. If she’s gotten herself into some sort of trouble, it has nothing to do with me.” Sachs looked across the street at the plump woman, who had stopped doing her chores and was watching the altercation. “Hey!” he shouted, making a shooing-away gesture with his hand. “This is a private conversation!” Sachs spat onto the cobbles and swore under his breath.

“We have a doctor’s report, Herr Sachs,” said Olga.

“Good,” said the procurer. “Do you think I care? If she’s accused me of anything, then it’s my word against hers. Do you think she’s the first drunken whore to get herself into trouble and make up a story?”

“Justice will be done, Herr Sachs,” said Anna. “Believe me. We will see to it that justice is done.”

Sachs suddenly lost his temper.

“Go away! The pair of you! Meddling bitches. I’ve had enough! Go back to your fancy apartments and perfumes and fine wines, eh? I’m going back to bed!”

Sachs pushed Anna out of the way and pulled the door shut.

“Are you all right?” said Olga, placing an arm around Anna’s shoulder.

Anna didn’t notice her friend’s ministrations. She clenched her fist and banged it against the door.

“We’ll be back, Herr Sachs,” she shouted. “I promise you, we’ll be back.”